Hypnophobia
by Marystormshade
Summary: "There are things far better to do than be afraid." She said with false boldness, attempting to mask her terror. The burlap face shook in jovial delight as a dark laugh came forth. "That is where you and I disagree my dear...you see there's nothing better!" Rating may go up to M with future chapters. Jonathan Crane x OC
1. Chapter 1

**Read and review and tell me what you think! Jonathan is in **_italics _**and Scarecrow is in 'Bold.'**

Burlap tickled skin as the stitched face moved closer. Its breath was hot and musty in her nose, assaulting her senses. His fingers gripped the strands of hair that had fallen from her loose ponytail, pulling gruffly the thing forced her eyes to meet the place where it's eyes should have been, but instead was filled with glistening pools of blackness, glaring down at her fear filled green orbs. Her breathing hitched when she saw one of its hands reach for a pocket. She remembered this, the initial shock, then terror, utter horror which had encompassed her once the effect began.

Fingers held up a canister of foggy liquid. The thing shook it teasingly. "This is the 2nd session we've had, and you still haven't answered my question...now what do you fear?" the low hum of a voice asked, scratching against her ear drums.

"There are things far better to do than be afraid." She said with false boldness, attempting to mask her terror. The burlap face shook in jovial delight as a dark laugh came forth. "That is where you and I disagree my dear...you see there's nothing better!"

She struggled as she watched the thing crush the canister beneath its fingers, the flurry of content escaping easily, she squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to hold her breath, but she couldn't, and eventually she let in a breath.

And immediately wished she hadn't.

Every nightmare she had ever had, every shadow that lurked in the crevices of her mind suddenly lunged forward into eyesight, pulsing off of the things burlap face tauntingly as it circled toward her; pushing her heart into her ribs.

With all the grace a woman in terror could muster: she screamed. When she was a child her pediatric caretaker had always chastised her for the dark shadows that had begun appearing at an early age beneath her eyes, chastised her for being so childish, so ridiculous, for being so afraid.

He had told her that sleep was nothing to fear; but she had disagreed, in sleep her imagination ran rampant twisting her reality into a macabre wonderland. Sleep ended with her screams.

Her body shook as the thing moved closer to her, bringing the oblivion of sleep with it. A soft finger traced her forehead and she released a yelp.

She didn't like to be touched.

She somehow knew that if the blackness touched her she would be filled with terror ridden dreams, the sleep would toss her about like a rag doll.

So when the blackness flooded her vision and burlap graced her cheek, the thing now rubbing itself against her, she had screeched, flailing her arms in an attempt to rid herself of the horror, failing miserably her head slumped to the side; shoulders drooping and eyes flashing dully before lids encased them in darkness.

"Oh? Going to sleep already? Naughty, naughty..."

Xxxxxxxx

Catherine jolted, a thin sheen of sweat layering over her skin, breathing heavily she looked down at herself. Sheets were intertwined about her limbs like a constricting coffin. Her hands were gripping the pillow like it was Excalibur, and she were preparing to relieve it from the stone.

Her breathing stopped suddenly when she realized with increasing horror that it had happened again; she had fallen asleep.

And with the sleep came the burlap.

"You fell out of your bed." a crisp and analytical voice said from the doorway, causing her to look up, eyes briefly flashing the poster of the periodical elements which adorned one of the walls.

Blue met green for a moment as Jonathan looked at Catherine and Catherine looked at Jonathan. Voice quivering she wrung her hands in worry. "Did I wake you?" the psychologist shrugged as he walked toward her nightstand where the lamp had been knocked out of place. Meticulously examining the lamp he replaced it and turned back to her, eyes filled with curiosity and something that Catherine couldn't name.

"What was your dream about?" he asked voice laced with well conceived excitement. She didn't notice however as she sighed and held her head within her hands, eyes closed as she bit her lip.

"I dreamt about this...thing," she began with disgust, "it sounded angry and happy all at once, it asked me what I was scared of, just like the last time...I can't remember if I told him, although I'm certain he already knows...just wants me to admit it out loud." she shook her head, ruining her already disheveled hair. She briefly registered that Jonathan was writing something down in a black college ruled notebook. Blue eyes didn't look up as he questioned her, "this is the same monster that plagued you the last time you slept?"

She merely nodded. He made a humming sound as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It is in my understanding that this thing is the embodiment of your fear." Jonathan said, closing the notebook. "Maybe you should do what it says."  
"What?" Catherine asked slightly taken a back. Jonathan shrugged and turned on his heel, heading for what she assumed was the kitchen, where Coffee would no doubt await her.  
"Just an idea...oh and a man will be coming over to discuss business so if you could-" she cut him off (much to his annoyance). "Stay out of sight, understood."

Xxxxx

Jonathan crane watched the girl opposite of him as she poured herself a glass of milk, mixing in chocolate syrup which she had found in the back of the fridge.

**That was fun.**

_She was unconscious before we gained any useful information._

**Come on Johnny boy, she looked so deliciously delicate in sleep, however little she gets of it**.

_Hmmm_

**What**?

I _just find it interesting that you did something so intimate during her session. And considering the fact that she didn't mention it also draws forth the conclusion that she's embarrassed_.

Scare: what can I say? I'm a ladies killer.

John: literally.

Jonathan focused his attention back at Catherine. He suppressed a smirk in amusement. "It seems as if we are out of chocolate syrup." he said pointing toward the bottle which Catherine was squeezing to the point of cracking the plastic. Vaguely a small piece of chalk in his unconscious thoughts made a small mark. This was the third bottle of syrup she had gone through. She grunted and merely squeezed harder, causing Jonathan to sigh. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair habitually as he pulled the morning paper over to himself. He merely smirked when a wheezing breath was released from the plastic container and a frustrated groan slipped past Catherine's lips as she threw the container into the sink.

Jonathan set the paper down, taking one last sip of his now lukewarm coffee, he stood leaving the table unceremoniously as he went for his bedroom, who lay opposite of Catherine's. Occasionally they would leave their rooms at the same time, Jonathan looking as he always did; well rested and dressed in his usual pressed brown suit, briefcase in hand, glasses in the other as he would leave the door dead set for the kitchen, completely prepared to fuel his coffee addiction.

Catherine would look as she had the night before, same clothes; crumpled. Hair in a chaotic state, lips pulled into an uncomfortable smile; her feet would usually be adorned in socks. The circles under her eyes would've grown as well.

It had always been the circles.

Those were what had drawn Jonathan toward her after his initial dislike.

FLASHBACK

Dr. Jonathan Crane sat leisurely in his office chair, well worn; one hand was massaging the bridge of his nose while the other clutched his glasses in annoyance. He had just gotten out of an extremely pointless session with a woman in her mid forties who had been convinced her husband was a sociopath. Within five minutes her profile was easily grasped; and it was nothing new. Obsessive compulsive, almost as much as Edward Nigma had been, type A personality, paranoia, severe narcissism and possible alcohol abuse. For the rest of the session he had merely let his mind wander to one of his earlier sessions; which were far more entertaining.

Jonathan removed his hand from the bridge of his nose as a solitary knock came from his office door.

"It's open."

In walked the only person Jonathan (barely) tolerated to follow orders from. "What is it?" Jonathan asked with thinly veiled venom. Quincy Sharp let out a strangled sigh, before rather carelessly tossed the psychologist a flash drive that was still warm from the confines of Quincy Sharp's pocket.

"New patient, suggested intensive care, multiple pathological disorders. Her files, personal history and past... Issues are all in that flash drive. You get 30mins before your first appointment with her starts." Jonathan's gaze was hard at the departing figure of Quincy Sharp; his gaze remained hard even when he turned around looking thoughtful before letting a fake smile slip on his face.

"Say crane...you've got a two bedroom apartment, right?"

Xxxxx

She was ordinary looking, plain, hypnotically boring.

Although the dark rings lacing her lower eyelids, framing the large tired green eyes, eyes that seemed to reflect everything: said otherwise.

Jonathan looked back at the computer screen as he scrolled back through her information.

"Catherine hale...before we begin, do you have any questions for me?" he asked, making his voice as inviting as he could while Catherine shifted uncomfortably. She coughed before the circles under her eyes crinkled. "What did you do before this?" Jonathan made a sound like he wasn't extremely happy to answer before he sighed and continued to read the computer screen.

"Until recently I was employed at a university, teaching psychology." he smirked.

"Until recently?" she pressed forward, suddenly curious. Jonathan sighed, "I was fired due to my 'use of test subjects'." he answered slightly sneering. Catherine continued undeterred. "Did you use students?" Jonathan paused before replying simply; "yes."

"Were they consenting to the tests?"

"Doesn't matter anymore. Anyway, this line of work has its own ups and downs... Anything else?"

Catherine frowned, suddenly feeling guilty.

"Is it alright with you that I'll be staying in your home?" Jonathan took his glasses off for a moment before his eyes flashed and he leaned forward.  
"No, I find it aggravating that I've been chosen to be made into a babysitter for someone who apparently lacks the rudimentary skills needed to care for themselves. I also am not over excited to be sharing my house with someone I've only met moments ago." he leaned back into his chair as he pushed his glasses back up his nose, his voice returning to its smooth persuasive tone. He smiled falsely; "anything else?"

Catherine nodded slowly suddenly scared as if she'd awakened a sleeping panther.

"Do you have any chocolate syrup at your house?"

END FLASHBACK

She didn't mean to leave her room at the time she did, it was an unfortunate coincidence, an alignment of stars, the stupidity of timing. Whatever the reason she did leave her room, and for whatever reason a man with a goatee and hard yet amused eyes was there in front of her. Almost as if he knew she was there the entire time.


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't see him immediately, her eyes were still hazy from reading and her mind refused to function without food. And so she promptly ran forehead into chest with someone.

Slowly she craned her neck upwards. The man was attractive in a strong, leadership, father like way. His prominent brow revealed stress wrinkles which would randomly navigate across his face. A mustache laced thinly across the philtrum area, before traversing lightly down the sides of his lips and meeting once more, forming a simple yet elegant goatee.

Although he was taller than her, and that angered her.

"Who are you?" she asked slightly peeved at having been caught outside her bedroom with only a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top.

"I could ask you the same question." the man said, his voice gruff. Catherine took absolutely no time to stick her arm out, fingers fully extended. "I'm Catherine Hale. Now your turn."

Xxxxxxxxxx

Catherine always hated all bran. It was disgusting, but Jonathan liked it, and so on occasion she was forced to eat it, the disgusting shreds of cereal drowning in milk. It was this particular cereal that she was currently glaring at as it greedily soaked up the white liquid. Daring to look up she found she wasn't the only one glaring.

She winced at Jonathan's eyes, those eyes that she had always tumbled into. While Catherine glared at her cereal and Jonathan glared at her, the man with the goatee who had introduced himself only as Henri Ducard observed them both coolly.

"I'm a bit curious, Catherine was it? Jonathan has never spoken of you before." Henri said casually reaching for the glass of water which he had gotten himself. Catherine looked up, slightly confused. But before she could respond Jonathan intervened.  
"She's a patient, I didn't find it necessary."

Henri's eyes glinted gently as he looked over at Jonathan.  
"What kind of patient?" he asked emphasizing the k in 'kind.' Catherine had a feeling that this sentence had a double meaning but she didn't press it. Jonathan merely scooted his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.  
"Just a patient." He said in finality as if hoping to end the discussion. He turned to Catherine, eyes burning. "You need to go; Henri and I have matters to discuss." Catherine raised her hands in surrender as she cautiously got up from the table.  
"I'll just…go to the store I guess…we need more chocolate syrup anyway."

Xxxxxxxxxx

"Crane, tell me truthfully, what is she to you?" Henri asked as he glanced once more over the many notes that had been scribbled on loose pieces of paper, all of them regarding the fear toxin. Jonathan seemed to tense before relaxing. "A patient." Henri's eyes narrowed.  
"Why is she living with you?"

Jonathan looked up and said sneeringly; "There was no vacancy at the asylum." Ignoring his comment Henri pulled a black notebook from the inside of his jacket. The notebook had clearly been used regularly as the binding was fraying and the paper seemed abused. The notebook had a title scribbled in sloppily elegant handwriting:

_Catherine H. Subject 9 observations_

Jonathan's eyes seemed to go from annoyed to furious in seconds. "How did you get that?" He demanded attempting to keep his voice even. Henri's face remained impassive as he opened the notebook his eyes slowly traveling across the page.  
"My men found it when they were checking the house…you never told me that you had a 'subject 9'." Henri said casually as he flipped another page. He wasn't actually reading it, just antagonizing Crane

"I didn't tell you because we had an agreement, I could conduct my experiments and you could supply the drug which would eventually bring Gotham to its knees." Jonathan growled reaching forward grabbing the edge of the notebook. Henri's grip didn't lessen however as Jonathan pulled. Suddenly Henri's eyes were glaring with burning interest.

"If she is a test subject, why hasn't she fallen to the ground in fear yet?" Jonathan stepped back, seeming tired, as if he had told this story a hundred times.

"I convince her that she's dreaming."

"I'm sorry?"

"It's simple really. She considers the fear as something subjective, not actually there…a bad dream. And because of this she is a test subject that I can use again and again, taking note of every change, every behavior and every thought." Jonathan explained slightly excited. Henri seemingly losing interest handed the notebook back to him. Suddenly he looked at the psychiatrist.

"Now then, changing subjects…what are you going to do about Dawes?"

Xxxxxxxxxx

Catherine practically rammed once more into Henri before she stopped herself with a yelp of realization.  
"Ah, Ms. Hale, would you like help carrying that?" Henri asked referring to the many shopping bags that were near the point of spilling.  
"Uh…no I think I'm fine."  
Henri nodded but still held the door leading to the apartment open. "Thanks!" Catherine called behind her as Henri Ducard left the property as quietly as he had entered.

Jonathan barely glanced up at her before his eyes flew back to the black notebook in his hand. His fingers skillfully covering any visible title. "How was the store?"  
"Surprisingly full. Oh, did you know that when you die, your hair still grows for a couple of months?" Catherine asked slightly curious as she moved meticulously from cupboard to bag, removing items only to replace them in another spot. "And where did you hear this?" Jonathan asked still not looking up.  
"Snapple facts."  
"Ah."

Now finished putting things away Catherine found herself extremely bored allowing her mind to wander. Suddenly she remembered something.  
"The thing that I dreamt about, it had a weird burlap mask like…a scarecrow. I don't know if that's important or not…" She trailed off reaching into the fridge for the yogurt she had just bought. She frowned when it took her a moment to find it.  
"Catherine."  
She wasn't listening as she was too busy in her quest to find a spoon.  
"Catherine!"  
"Hmm?" She hummed looking up, spoon in her mouth, yogurt in her hand.  
"I have an idea, and you won't like it." Jonathan said slowly as he put his pen on the inside of the notebook.  
"Oh please Dr. Crane, when have I not liked any of your suggestions?" she asked mockingly.  
"You need sleep."

Xxxxxxxxxx

There was a silence. There was nothing special about it, only a silence. And in the time that this silence took place Catherine had crossed the room, feet moving with purpose as she went around the corner, sliding with skill past the reaching hands of Jonathan. Once she was out of arms reach she was sprinting out the front door, Jonathan was behind her the entire time. Calling out for her to stop, when he stopped.

At the best of times his face was smug, sneering or completely unreadable. Now his face was a book written in annoyance, in a language never uttered outside the crevices of the mind. Jonathan crossed his arms over his chest and stared after the way Catherine had gone, and did not move to follow.

She would come back. She always came back.

Xxxxxxxxxx

It was only when she released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding that she remembered something so insignificant it made her laugh out loud at the pure hilariousness of it.

She was still holding the spoon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Bold = Scarecrow**

_Italics = Jonathan_

Xxxxxxxxx

His hand was bleeding. And so was the mirror; split jaggedly just like him. He rubbed his nose before looking up at his reflection. Everything about it was the same as him, except for one thing. The crooked smirk that laced the lips of the reflection, the arms crossed smugly.

"**Wonderfully done Johnny boy. First the girl and now the mirror. Who will we shatter next?"**

"_Shut up!"_

"**Touchy, touchy."**

Both sane and insane looked at each other. Then, sanity, if only for now, bent and the same twisted grin in the mirror made its way onto Jonathan's face.

He sauntered into his bedroom, eyes darker than they had been before, and glasses in his pocket; no longer needed. Reaching beneath his bedside table he pulled out his briefcase. With a satisfying clicking noise the case opened.

Jonathan brought the stitched burlap mask to his face; and breathed in. Sweat, fear, ecstasy, and the subtle scent of Catherine seemed to stick to the threads. Jonathan grinned, or rather Scarecrow grinned.

It was time for some fun.

Xxxxxxxxx

She knew before she turned the corner that she was lost; she also knew she was an idiot. She should've stayed to hear what Jonathan had to say. Stumbling forward she leaned against a lamppost for support as she breathed heavily. Looking up she decided to keep moving, anyone in Gotham at night knew to not stay still, they found you if you were still.

Although Catherine would have gladly moved restlessly through the narrows all night long until day, when she would be able to hail a taxi, it didn't really work out that way. She stared at the wall in annoyance. The alleyway she had taken a moment ago had led to a dead end, a dark smelly one at that. She sighed in defeat as she sunk down against the wall. She jumped up faster than a grasshopper however when what she sat on moved.

"Can't a guy get any sleep?" Yelled the pile of moving blankets as it stood up. The blankets revealed an extremely dirtied man, brown eyes glaring, black hair clumping all around. He saw her and seemed to pause before he advanced, eyes changing from anger into deliberation.

"Sorry…" Catherine whispered as she shuffled backwards. She didn't see the second man however as she stumbled directly into him. The man nuzzled against her, causing Catherine's entire body to go stiff as a board. "You smell nice…" The man said as his hands began to travel down her arms.

Catherine yelled, screamed and cried, until one of the men stuffed their arm into her mouth, silencing her. Tears welled as she kicked. Both men stopped however as they looked up, causing Catherine to look in the same direction. "Look at that wacko."

Burlap.

Xxxxxxxxx

He heard her from blocks away, and at first he had mistaken it for someone else. But then he heard the truth telling shriek, the shriek that she had always done whenever he had tested the toxin on her. It was delicious when he made her scream, but not when others did it. She was his to scare, no one else's.

So when he appeared in front of Catherine and the two degenerates who had already successfully gotten her shirt ripped off, even though she was putting up an astounding fight. When they saw him the two men looked at each other uneasily before seemingly making light of the situation. Catherine however seemed paralyzed.

Both men pulled out switch blades, no doubt having stolen then from someone else. They dropped Catherine gruffly, who when released scooted backward into the corner of the alley, attempting to hide.

_Silly girl. _

Scarecrow remained impassive as the men began to advance and circle, expecting this to be easy. They were dead wrong. They saw him, and then they didn't. All they saw was the misty gas that had erupted from the canister Scarecrow had dropped. It didn't take long before both men were suddenly breathing shakily, staring at each other, in terror. The knives in their hands weren't forgotten however as the more braver of the two lunged at the other. The one being lunged at took no time in running for it, and the one lunging was right behind, knife poised dangerously.

Catherine looked around wildly. She was so focused on the fighting of the two men that she hadn't watched the Scarecrow's movements.  
**"Why, fancy seeing you here."  
**Catherine did nothing for a moment before very slowly she turned toward the Scarecrow, her fear slowly rising.  
"How…?" She asked shakily. She wasn't as scared as she had been when she was under the influence of the toxin, but that didn't mean that she wasn't ready to bolt. The only thing keeping her steady was Scarecrow's eyes. Eyes that made her want to tumble into them.

"I'm scared of sleeping." Catherine said, the words escaping out of her mouth before she could stop them.  
**"Oh?"**  
"You asked before…I don't think I answered…" She whispered looking down suddenly for some ridiculous reason feeling embarrassed. She was forced to look up however when she felt fingers grasp the back of her hair, pulling the already tangled mess backward, forcing her to look at him.  
**"That's not the only thing you're scared of…"** The Burlap growled as its other hand made its way to her neck. **"Say it."** He commanded as the hand around her neck tightened. Catherine gasped as she felt her fear peak.  
"You…I'm scared of you!" She cried out in a pleading voice. Behind burlap a grin spread.  
**"Good girl…"** Scarecrow whispered as he lowered his face down to hers. She gasped as burlap met her lips, she could feel lips on the other side of the mask working through the fabric. She responded immediately, her fear only pushing her passion. Her fingers snaked to the back of the mask where she could feel a seam. She was about to pull but was stopped when Scarecrows hands grabbed her wrist in a vice like grip. He pulled away, pushing her off completely.

His hand reached into his pocket, pulling out a canister. A very familiar canister. He pulled Catherine up to a standing position next to him while she struggled to get away. Without much warning he dropped the canister. And not long after that Catherine started to struggle harder, her breathing hitching. Then Catherine as always, slumped forward, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, unconsciousness gaining on her. She fell into Scarecrows chest where he held her by the bicep, so she wouldn't fall over.

"**At the end of fear oblivion."**

"_Time to leave."_

Xxxxxxxxx

"Uh…what happened?" Catherine asked as she grabbed a banana from the fridge. She began unpeeling it as she sat two chairs from Jonathan. Jonathan looked up and rested his head on his hand. "You agreed to an attempt at sleep. I'll admit, it was extremely difficult trying to convince you." Catherine looked at her psychiatrist and studied him. He looked tired, even more tired than her if that was even possible.  
"Oh…okay, I just don't remember that part…"  
"Well what do you remember?"

Catherine hesitated a moment before shrugging. "Just a bad dream."

'**Bad dream'? Is she serious?**

_Shut up. This is your fault._

**Oh please, you enjoyed every second of it. **

_That's irrelevant. _

Jonathan coughed before glancing her over. "You should probably get dressed." He said in reference to the basketball shorts and tank top that she always wore when she went to bed. Catherine nodded before laughing.  
"It's kind of funny but…I don't remember changing." Catherine said before she bit once more into her banana before running to her room.

**Funny how those things work. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Plot twists ahead! Enjoy and as always, read and review!**

"Let's go." Jonathan said, reaching for his keys. Catherine looked up in confusion as she popped up from her chair. "Where?" She asked curious.  
"The grocery store." Jonathan said pushing the apartment door open with ease, before turning the key, causing a loud click which assured them both that the door had in fact locked. "I already went to the store..." Catherine said attempting to clarify something she herself was confused about. "Yes, you did, but all you bought was chocolate syrup, yogurt and bananas. Nothing actually worth eating."  
Catherine shrugged dismissively as they began walking down the steps of the outer apartment building. Suddenly Catherine looked hopeful. "My car or yours?" Jonathan glanced at her shrewdly.  
"Mine."

Catherine groaned.

"What is it now?" Jonathan questioned as he turned the key, easily opening the driver's seat.  
"Your car smells strange and... leathery." She complained in a dismissive tone as she jumped childishly into shotgun. Jonathan smirked as the engine revved gently, signally they could now move freely.  
"Oh, and yours doesn't?"

Catherine opened her mouth in mock horror. "My car smells like rainbows!" She cried slightly annoyed. "And anyway sometimes your car smells like flowers..." She failed to notice Jonathan's eyes flicker toward her.  
"Oh?"  
"Yeah...a really potent smelling flower to."  
"Hmmm, strange...Safeway is this way right?" Jonathan asked quickly changing topics. Catherine looked up at the roads.  
"I think..." Catherine muttered as she observed an extremely obnoxious blood red car pass them, the music blaring.  
"You think?" Jonathan asked, growing exasperated.  
"It takes me twenty minutes to find the coffee at the apartment...what makes you think I'm any better with geographical destinations?"

Jonathan sighed.

Xxxxxxxxxx

It wasn't exactly expected or ultimately surprising when men wearing ski masks and heavy leather gloves suddenly entered the store, easily barring the doors, all the occupants trapped. Guns were forcing everyone into an arrangement that resembled a triangle on the ground, everyone looking into someone else's eyes somehow.  
"Don't aggravate them." Jonathan had whispered to her from their spot on the floor.  
"Yeah fine...but shouldn't batman be here by now?" She asked her eyes unconsciously moving across the crowd of terrified citizens.

"You mean the flying rodent!" A new voice exclaimed. Catherine felt a hand grip her neck in a vice like hold as she was forced into a standing position. She felt cool yet sharp metal against the soft spot beneath her chin.

Childlike war paint stared at her in an ever amused expression. Scars skidded across each of the man's cheeks, mapping a cruel smile as if it were a city you never wanted to visit. His hair fell forward, the random green and brown strands sloppily masking the dark crevices that surrounded his eyes. Catherine couldn't help but wonder if his were from lack of sleep as well.

"Well doll face, in answer to your question, the big 'old bat is a bit busy on the opposite side of Gotham with a bit of a distraction. Now..." suddenly the knife pressed against her skin tighter. "Why are you looking at me with such a serious expression?"  
Catherine frowned and turned her head to look at Jonathan. He was clutching something in his pocket and was seemingly arguing with himself on whether to act or not. His eyes were also darker than before, Catherine noted. His eyes met hers and he sent her a look that clearly stated: don't do anything stupid.

She ignored him.

"I was born oozing seriousness." Catherine said sarcastically, she had never actually taken her safety seriously. If she had been listening closely she could've heard Jonathan grind out the word 'idiot' in her direction. The man's mouth twitched downward momentarily, the red paint flaring gently. "Wanna know how I got these scars?"

Catherine allowed her eyes to fall to the man's hands...they were large ugly hands that didn't seem to fit with the rest of his body. They were hands that could crush her if they wanted to. "Not really..." She whispered, any courage she had disappearing as she felt the knife press firmly against her jugular.

"Well, I'm going to tell you anyway..." He said a slight giggle in his voice as his tongue flicked across his lips. He was interrupted however as one of the men in ski masks rushed from his vantage point at the window.  
"Boss! The cops!"  
The man's eyes didn't leave Catherine's face as he pulled away. Then he turned to the rest of the hostages.

"Which one of you called?" He asked with false politeness. No one answered. Catherine felt a smooth hand pull her back. Feeling a chest against her back her breathing hitched. Cautiously she looked back and released a breath of relief as she saw it was in fact Jonathan.  
"Calm down." He whispered into her ear. "I'm just checking your neck."

"No one's willing to step forward?" The man asked, the white paint coating his face stretching slightly as he smiled. "Fine then." He said simply as from the inside of his jacket he pulled out a gun, not entirely surprising. Quite suddenly the gun went off and Catherine let out a gasp. The man not but two feet from her shook for a moment before he slumped forward, his forehead hitting the floor.  
"Well that was fun!" The man yelled as he pulled something from his glove. A crumpled playing card. "Doll face." The man said, gaining Catherine's attention. "Here's my card, call me." He cackled as her hand shook while she gently took the card from his eager fingers. She looked at the card and saw the classic joker with both legs in the air and a silly jesters hat. One thing was different however; on the jokers face was a crudely drawn smile, perceived in bright red that contrasted with the white of the card.

"Bye-bye~!" Joker sang as he almost childishly threw behind him a military grenade, he and his goons made their way out the back rather un-dramatically, locking the door behind them . Everyone's reaction was immediate, some ran, some dove behind things and others simply sat in shock. Jonathan however took Catherine's arm and practically threw her behind the cash register, he landed next to her not moments before the blast happened.

Xxxxxxxxxx

"Jesus Christ, is that Dr. Crane?" Gordon asked looking up from his clipboard to the ambulance officials who were working on the injured. Jonathan was currently standing rather aggravated as he watched Catherine get stitched above her right eye.  
"We need to leave, now." Crane urged looking around a bit wildly. Catherine groaned.  
"Dr. Crane-" He stopped her.  
"Jonathan. Call me Jonathan."  
"What?" She asked bewildered.  
"I just saved your life and we've been living together for three months, I think we've both earned the right to be on a first name basis."  
"Jonathan..." Catherine said, tasting the name as it rolled off of her tongue.

"Come on." Jonathan said, inclining his head toward the parking lot, where his car was. Catherine nodded slowly and cringed slightly when she stood up. Her head was pounding and her vision was a bit fuzzy but all in all she was alright. Jonathan amazingly had left the scene with nothing more than a bruise to his lower ribs, and even then he still moved with astounding determination.

The car ride was silent, except for the background noise of the highway.

"Did you know who that guy was?" Catherine questioned after a while, her hands in her pockets.  
"I don't know him personally, all I know is that he escaped from the Asylum approximately 6 months ago, he doesn't have any identification and only goes by the 'Joker'. I remember reading over his profile. No psychiatrist or psychologist as of yet has been able to firmly diagnose him with anything."

Catherine's eyes widened. "He escaped? He escaped the asylum? Fucking hell..." She shook her head in disbelief. The asylum was infamous for its heavy and high tech security, particularly now that it was being indorsed by Wayne Tech.

"Yes, as I recall it was hell for many people...you see, he didn't escape quietly. He killed at least five guards, two innocents and broke out some of his other companions. He left a trail of blood laughing all the way."

Catherine nodded as if she understood, which she didn't. She pressed her forehead against the car window and breathed out of her mouth. The window fogged, and Catherine traced designs with her finger. The hand that was still in her pocket clutched the crumpled playing card.


	5. Chapter 5

She felt surprisingly bare simply sitting on the couch watching movies, as if nothing had happened. Currently she was flinging popcorn up in the air and attempting to catch them kernels in her mouth. She was failing horribly. A sigh was heard from across the room. Catherine looked up at Jonathan as he looked at her over the rim of his book.  
"You're making a mess, I ask you to discontinue." His voice was flat, signally he wanted the subject to end there. Catherine narrowed her eyes as he went back to reading. She grabbed a piece of popcorn and threw it at him. She missed and was only able to cause the piece of food to land in Jonathan's black hair. He looked up, eyes dangerous.  
"You know...I never asked you..." Catherine said getting up from the couch making her way to the kitchen, reaching into the cupboard and grasping a bottle of strong red wine. She uncorked the bottle and proceeded to pour the red liquid into two individual cups. Each cup was being filled to the brim.  
"Why did you put that guy, Zsasz, in the asylum?"  
Jonathan's eyes followed her as she made her way to him, hand outstretched, offering a cup. He took it slowly and only when he had his hold on it did Catherine herself take a sip from her own cup. Jonathan put the cup down and watched her carefully.

"The same reason why you were placed in my personal care. It's the only way I can treat him." Catherine looked skeptical, her green eyes inquisitive. "So...you're treating me."  
"Well obviously."  
"It's not obvious to me."  
Jonathan shrugged as placed a bookmark in the folds of the book. He stretched his long legs out before him, placing his hands together to form a steeple in front of his mouth. "Why the sudden interest?" Catherine promptly ignored his question and sat on the edge of the coffee table, coddling her glass, she stared into the dark pool of red.

"Why, no, how were you so calm? I mean...I had a million thoughts just going through my head and they wouldn't shut up! How were you any different? How the hell did you react so quickly?" Catherine asked suddenly and inexplicably angry. Her grip tightened on the cup. Jonathan observed the miniscule emotions that seemed to flash across her face. He smirked.

"I was merely doing my job as your doctor." Catherine looked up at him, her eyes hard.  
"And what is your job?"  
"To keep my patients safe."

His explanation was so simple, so firm, so believable. She hated it. By now she had downed all of the wine, having disregarded the knowledge that she herself was a lightweight. She stood up, placing the cup off to the side. "Whatever the reason, you saved..." She blinked, a warmth filling her. Probably from alcohol.  
"You saved my life, and...well, thank you." She felt something warm grab her by the shoulder.  
"Catherine, you seem a bit disoriented, are you alright?"  
She ignored him and instead focused on his face. Blue eyes shined brightly from behind thin frames, black hair parted perfectly in the middle. Catherine tumbled into those blue eyes every time she saw them. Leaning forward she put one hand on each side of his face and brought his head closer.

Jonathan's eyes widened but he did nothing to stop her, instead he seemed almost curious as to the outcome of the situation.  
She pushed herself up onto her toes as she placed a feather light kiss on the corner of his mouth.  
She pulled back and put her hands behind her back before bowing her head like a small child.

"I really mean it when I say thank you." She whispered before she turned and headed down the hall to her own respectable room. She kept her head bowed the whole time, successfully hiding her blush.

His eyes followed her retreating form like an owl's own eyes followed the shape of a scurrying deer mouse.

_Highly inappropriate... _

**And yet...**

He brought his fingers to his lips.

_Breaking the rules..._

**...you loved it. Now what are you going to do?**

_Don't you mean 'we'?_

Xxxxxxxxxx

Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was the blush that was spreading thoroughly throughout Catherine's body, or perhaps it was something entirely different. She brought her hands to her face as her breathing became uneven.  
"What the hell was that?" She hissed to herself, moving her head against the wall, squishing her forehead against the chipping wall paint. She took her hands off of her face and made a noise stuck somewhere between a groan of annoyance and a pissed off gurgle.  
"I am in so much trouble."

Xxxxxxxxxx

"I hate all bran." Catherine said after a moment of the pregnant silence that ensued when both patient and doctor had seen each other in the kitchen the next morning.  
"We need to get another cereal. Preferably one with sugar." Catherine said dismissively as she slid past Jonathan, en route to the refrigerator. She grasped hold of a yogurt container, and with a practiced hand tossed it over onto the dining table.  
Jonathan made a sound of distaste. "You do realize what today is right?" Catherine furrowed her brows as she poured herself a cup of coffee, while searching for a spoon.

"...Monday?"  
"Evaluation day."  
"..."

When Jonathan received no answer he looked into her face and saw it contort into disgust.  
"Already?" She asked, fully knowing the answer already.  
"Yes sadly." Jonathan said leaning against the counter almost tiredly. Catherine glanced at his figure and cursed herself for finding his stance charmingly seductive. She popped open the yogurt and slurped at it messily, spoon forgotten.

"Will you at least be there? Last time it was so...uncomfortable." Catherine shivered involuntarily.  
"Yes, we've decided that this will go smoother if it were a group session." He looked over at her and was caught off guard by how messy she was being with her yogurt. He watched as she finished the rest of the yogurt with ease. She was about to grab her coffee when he stopped her by placing a hand on her wrist. She looked up in surprise and was suddenly out of breath at seeing how he had moved closer to her. Less than a foot of distance between the two. He reached up, a damp washcloth in his hand. Slowly the material moved against her cheeks, making their way to her lips. Catherine unconsciously was reminded of the feel of the burlap against her lips that she had felt in her last dream.

She blushed. He moved back and sniffed the washcloth before making a face of distaste. "Blueberry? Really?"  
She shrugged.

Xxxxxxxxxx

The asylum looked exactly she remembered it. Dirty, and ultimately unapproachable. Jonathan had a hand on Catherine's back the entire time, ushering her along. After the initial and unbearable security checks they were in the patient transport wing. A flash of red caught her attention.

"Eddie!?" She cried, breaking from Jonathan's hold. The man craned his head backward attempting to get a look at who had called his name. This proved a difficult task, as his guards never removed their grips from his arms. "Ah! My dear Catherine, and how has the luxury of being shadowed by your doctor been treating you?" He asked snidely as his signature cocky smile flew onto his face. Jonathan growled from behind Catherine. "Nashton."  
"I prefer Nigma...and how are you _Crane?_" Asked the red head as his smile only seemed to grow. Ignoring him Jonathan turned to Catherine.  
"How do you know him?"

"Oh, well, before we first met I was here in the transport wing, and so was Eddie (with his guards of course) so to distract ourselves we had a bit of a riddle competition. According to him I'm an idiot."  
Catherine said in a factual tone. Edward's smile remained, the guards having now turned him around so that he could face the others, Edward shook his head playfully.

"Don't feel bad, practically everyone is. Speaking of which, With no wings I fly. With no eyes, I see. With no arms, I climb. More frightening than any beast, stronger than any foe. I am cunning, ruthless, and tall; in the end, I rule all. What am I?" Edward asked, his head cocked to the side as he studied Catherine's look of concentration. The infamous Riddler couldn't help toying with the girl. It was one of the things he missed most about not being in the normal world, the pure intellectual power he got over conquering people over the most simple of things. Finally Catherine opened her eyes, suddenly sure of her decision.

"Power." Edward's grin widened even more if possible.  
"Final answer?" He asked as the guards began to mumble to each other.  
"Yes."  
"Oh, so close! But sadly, no cigar. The correct answer is: the human imagination." Catherine frowned, slightly disappointed in herself. The guards then began to lead Edward back around, down the hall.  
"Perhaps another time my dear! It seems that now I must be pulled away once again by the ever persistent Doctor Young!" He called back as he disappeared around a corner.

"Ridiculous." Jonathan muttered. Catherine looked at him, confused.  
"What?"  
"The riddle was pointless, as was the conversation. Now let's go, we wouldn't want to keep Warden Sharp and Doctor Murphy waiting."  
Catherine stopped and stared at Jonathan in horror.

"Are you telling me that the warden is supervising the session?" She asked, suddenly enraged.  
"Yes, I'm afraid you'll have to deal with it." Jonathan said, tugging on her wrist. She dug her feet into the ground, intent to argue the topic now.  
"You know how much I hate him." She whispered, tongue lashing. Jonathan leaned down, his eyes meeting hers as he brought his face to her level. "I have the same mutual feeling toward the man, but sadly, there is nothing either of us can do to change the current situation. Now I suggest you stop being stubborn and start behaving like an adult."

Catherine sniffed before her glared turned hot white. "Fine, but if he mentions anything that I don't like, I can't promise the outcome will be a happy one."  
"Understood."


	6. Chapter 6

**Well that was fast...anyway, read and review! **

**Screamingoutalovesong: Thanks so much!**

**ZenyZootSuit: Thank you for your favorite, and for your review!**

_**Monsters are real, and Ghosts are too. They live inside us, and sometimes they win. -Stephen king.**_

_**Xxxxxxxx **_

He had a bald, shiny head, dark beady eyes that were only slightly camouflaged by his large rimmed glasses, making him look comical with his large belly and pristine suit.

She hated this man.

"Let's start the session then shall we?" Quincy asked, his throaty voice vibrating. "Please sit." He said, pointing toward the chair which was placed directly in front of her. Catherine obliged and allowed herself to sit in the hard plastic chair which reminded her to much of high school. She looked at the three people opposite of her, Jonathan; who rested on the far right, his chin resting on his hand as he seemed to study her. Warden Quincy Sharp, sitting directly across from her, reading over a file that Jonathan had handed him. And of course Dr. Murphy on the far right, he was a nervous, but kind man, who almost always was found with his hands in his pockets.

Quincy gave Murphy the 'okay' sign with his pointer finger and thumb, signaling the doctor to press the button on the video camera.  
"And how are you today Ms. Hale." Dr. Murphy asked, in a voice reserved only for patients.  
"Catherine please, and up until now I was perfectly alright." Catherine said with false politeness. Jonathan sighed.  
"Catherine, would you answer some of our questions?" Jonathan asked, knowing that she couldn't say no. She simply inclined her head, agreeing easily. "The questions will start out simple before progressing into more difficult questions that may require more thought. I will ask the first question, then Warden Sharp will ask a question, then Dr. Murphy will ask a question. Ready?"

"As always, Dr. Crane." Catherine answered, her voice flat. She always hated this exercise.

"Favorite color?" Jonathan questioned.  
"Grey."  
"Why?" Quincy asked.  
"It's perfectly balanced."  
"How have you been sleeping?" Dr. Murphy inquired pulling a pencil out of his pocket as he began to jot things down.  
"Seldom."  
"How are you coping with the events of yesterday?" Jonathan asked, his eyes glinting. Catherine looked at him, wondering if he was referring to the explosion, or the slightly alcohol induced intimacy. Or both... Deciding to kill two birds with one stone Catherine answered slowly.

"Honestly...I feel slightly confused about it all but...I'm okay." She said, looking at Jonathan pointedly. He merely nodded before scratching his pencil across a pad of paper.  
"Do you ever think of the past?" Quincy asked, purposefully twirling his pencil around.

Catherine was silent before a moment before she lowered her eyes dangerously. "No comment."  
"Oh certainly you must have something to say-" Quincy pushed.  
"Yes! Okay? Move past it, I did." Catherine huffed, now annoyed.

Dr. Murphy spoke then, his question bringing a nice change of pace. "Are you pleased with your current living arrangements with Dr. Crane?"  
"Yes, it's extremely helpful having my doctor within reach. Also he's been very hospitable."  
Jonathan held in a smirk. It wasn't a complete lie.  
"One more question;" Jonathan said, pencil poised. "What symptoms have you felt recently? State it clearly so that the camera picks it up please."  
Catherine sighed. "I've experienced over feelings of dread, nausea, sweating, irregular heartbeat and rapid breathing. All consecutively in that order."

Jonathan coughed, gaining everyone's attention. "Ms. Hale, please answer this questionnaire while the rest of us discuss the events of the past month." He said handing her a clipboard. "Oh and feel free to move into the hallway if you deem it necessary." Jonathan whispered the last part to her conspiratorially as he trailed behind the other two doctors who excited the conference room only to enter a small more confined space.

She looked over the first question and scoffed.

"'On a scale of 1-10 how do you usually feel'? What the hell? Do they give this to everyone?" She muttered as she stood, clipboard at her side, leaving the conference room to the hallway. Some employees gave her odd looks, while others just ignored her. Hardly looking at the clipboard she answered the questions, occasionally answering the one or two seriously. She looked up when the three doctors exited and approached her. Without a word she handed the clipboard to Dr. Murphy while she made her way to Jonathan, who was watching her.

"I think we have what we need." Quincy said, clearly eager to leave. For once Catherine agreed with him. The asylum had grown suffocating. Dr. Murphy and Quincy left, speaking to each other in hushed tones. Catherine watched them leave before toying with her earlobes, pulling experimentally.

Jonathan glanced at her and pivoted, heading toward the exit. Catherine trotted beside him. "Where are we going?" She asked casually, happy to finally be leaving.  
"To lunch, where else?"

Xxxxxxxx

**I say we break her until she comes crawling.**

_Please shut up._

**Maybe we could take turns?**

_I'm going to ignore you._

**Whatever makes you happy. But still...**

"Jonathan?"

He looked up in surprise, remembering suddenly that he was in a restaurant, eating food, in public. He looked down and noted that he had a forkful of steak, far too much for him to possible eat in one bite.  
He looked into Catherine's eyes for a moment before he reached for his water glass, taking a sip.  
"Have you finished already?" He asked, eyeing her now empty plate, except for the random lettuce pieces that littered the corners.

"Uh...yeah, I've kind of been having a conversation with myself since you sort of zonked out. It's not really healthy to talk to yourself, you know?" She said jokingly.

_You have no idea._

**Admit it, you'd be lost without me. **

"Oh Jonathan...about last night-" She was cut off by Jonathan's hand raising up, signaling that he wanted her to stop, which she did.  
"I will not ask you to apologize as it was not entirely one sided." Jonathan said simply as he went back to his steak.  
"Wait- what? I'm sorry...I'm confused." Catherine said, fingers sliding to her lap.  
"You can't honestly be very surprised. When two people of the opposite sex have been in close proximity for as long as you and I have, it is only to be assumed that they would become physically attracted to one another." Jonathan said simply, swallowing down a particularly salty piece of meat.

**Always so eloquent. **

_Do shut up._

Catherine felt heat rise to her face, and involuntarily she coughed. She dared a glance at Jonathan and saw that he was studying her, his blue eyes smiling at her. "Only physical attraction?" She questioned a bit hopeful. She mentally chastised herself.

Falling for her handsome psychologist, not necessarily the wisest course of action.

Jonathan placed his head on his hand as he seemed to think of an appropriate answer. "No...not only physical attraction." He answered finally.  
"Oh." Catherine whispered.  
"Would you like to go back to the apartment after this?"  
"That sounds fine."

Xxxxxxxx

He made sure the door clicked securely behind him. He needed to make this phone call. The tone ringed three times before a familiar voice picked up.

"What is it Crane?"  
"After tomorrow night Rachel Dawes will no longer be a problem."  
"That's good news."

A click. The person on the other end of the line had hung up, content to end the conversation there. Jonathan closed his phone as he reopened the door to his room, rejoining Catherine in the kitchen who was setting up a game of chess.

Apparently he was to play black.


	7. Chapter 7

**Today was the first day of school...good god...  
Anyway,**

**fearofpainteddevils: Really? :D! Thank you so much! When I first started writing this I was sort of on the line with her, but thank you for your compliments! P.s. Love the user name...**

**punkrocker2425070899153: :3 Thank you for your support!**

**Guest: :) to you to. **

"You're cheating." Catherine accused blatantly as she stared at the chess board. Each player had taken possession of one another's queens as well as rook's and a handful of pawns. Currently Catherine's pristine white king was cornered by darkened soldiers of the opposite player. The pieces meshed together like a colorless goulash.

"You're just a sore loser." Jonathan replied simply as he flicked her king over with his fingers. Suddenly he stood up as if getting an idea. "What time is it?" Catherine took a moment to respond as she was too busy glowering at the chess board.  
"Um...8:46...pm, in case you were wondering." Catherine said sarcastically as she reached upwards, craning her back, creating small popping sounds as she stretched. She suddenly stopped as she smelt something more delicious than anything she had ever sensed before. She turned her head and peered over the counter, her nose resting on the granite. She watched Jonathan; eyes peeled.  
"What are you doing?"  
"Making dinner."  
"Didn't we already have dinner?"  
"No, that was a late lunch."

Catherine sighed as she stood up straight, raising her hand dismissively she responded: "Technicalities." Suddenly her face turned suspicious as she leaned forward. "You never cook." Jonathan smirked sardonically.  
"I cook all the time."

**I think she was referring to edible things.**

Catherine snorted. "I'm talking about things made in something other than a lab." She moved to his side as she started to sort through the cupboards above the stove which contained spices. More than once Jonathan and Catherine would bump into each other, sending each other off balance or causing them to drop something.

"What are we making?" Catherine asked finally satisfied with the wide range of spices and vegetables she had stolen from Jonathan's kitchen. Jonathan raised a brow.

_We? _

**This should be interesting.**

Jonathan coughed in amusement. "As I recall the last time you cooked, we had to give quite the explanation to the tenants above us when the vents started to spew black smoke."  
Catherine glared at him. "How was I supposed to know that the sausage was still wrapped in plastic?"

**Look at the fucking food before you start cooking it.**

Jonathan was thinking along similar lines before his sight was clouded by a white puff. Apparently he had 'zonked' out a bit long again, as a handful of the flower that he had taken out of the cupboard only moments ago was now suddenly in his hair and face. His train of thought was derailed as his eyes darkened.

**She. Is. Dead.**

_Don't kill her, it'd be such a hassle to clean._

Jonathan smirked, his demeanor suddenly changing. His entire aura suddenly dropped as a frightening chill filled the room. He was radiating danger and dominance. Catherine gulped, and without any hesitation darted from the kitchen at a desperate attempt to escape to the hall, then to her room. Sadly Jonathan anticipated this and was on her before she had gone five feet. They both tumbled to the floor and the air rushed out of her as she landed painfully on her back. She looked up and saw that Jonathan had disappeared if only for a moment.

"It was just a joke!" Catherine wheezed loudly as she attempted to push herself up. She was stopped however when she felt a foot push her back to the ground. Pressure was applied as a voice that only vaguely resembled Jonathan's whispered in her ear.  
"**You'll be staying on the ground for this."**

She shivered involuntarily. The voice made her want to hide underneath her covers while at the same time stroke the face that the voice originated from. It was a chillingly familiar feeling. Catherine opened her eyes when the pressure on her chest was suddenly removed. She squeezed them shut quickly however as she saw Jonathan, hands above his head, and in his hands, the container of flower.

It fell like a soft powder of snow, yet not nearly as gentle. It infested her nostrils and made her throat feel dry. No matter how tightly her eyes were closed, they still seemed to suffer from the infesting whiteness. She shook her head, causing her hair to fall haphazardly in front of her face, the brown randomly pigmented in white. She glared up at the smirking face of Jonathan, now contorted with some sort of sick pleasure.

"You're a sadist." She claimed, pointing at him accusingly.  
"You're a masochist and a sore loser." Jonathan replied, his voice no longer as scratchy and deep as before, but certainly still menacing. He sighed and went back into the kitchen. He returned with the bottle of wine that had been opened the night before. He looked at her pointedly.  
"I refuse to continue at the pointless task of making a meal if you will constantly become an obstacle to refinement of the finished project. And so, we drink." He raised the bottle as if to emphasize his statement. He handed her the bottle and Catherine took it appreciatively. She gulped down loudly. She looked over at Jonathan as she brought the bottle to her lips again.

"You may want to slow down." Jonathan pointed out, not really caring if she did. Catherine sneered at him even though her mind was feeling slightly fogged. "You know..." Catherine began after taking yet another sip. Jonathan had yet to drink any. Catherine's words began to slur slightly. "I think you do it on purpose."  
"Hmmm?" Jonathan asked watching the girl in front of him. She was becoming increasingly interesting.

_So naive. _

**Too easy.**

"You know, the whole 'know it all' attitude that you have...along with that infuriating smile."  
Jonathan smirked. "Which one?" He asked playfully. He slowly reached for the bottle, pulling it away from Catherine. Her eyes widened as she pointed at his face like a small child entranced by a toy.  
"That one! THAT! That stupid smirk! It-it-..." Catherine said shaking her head as if trying to decide something.

"What?" Jonathan pushed. Catherine looked up at him for a moment before she leaned back, laying on the carpeted floor as if she were about to close her eyes, but instead she merely watched the ceiling. Jonathan watched her, he knew that this was one of the many things she did while he was sleeping and she was avoiding the darkness in her mind. She would think as her eyes would wander. Finally Catherine sighed.

"I don't know whether I'm revolted by it, or attracted to it."

Jonathan studied her silently as she moved onto her side, her face looking up at his as her legs curled up into her, similar to that of an embryo. With her free hand she reached toward his face and pulled his glasses off. She looked as if she were about to say something before she decided against it as she put his glasses on. Her eyes widened then narrowed. Finally she took the glasses off and shook her head as if to clear her thoughts.

"You're really blind aren't you?"

Xxxxxxxxxx

Catherine's head was against the table as she rubbed her temples violently.  
"I am never drinking alcohol again." Jonathan smirked from his other side of the table as he cradled a cup of coffee.  
"I did tell you to slow down."

She only grumbled in reply. She rested her chin on the table and looked at her psychiatrist.  
"what?" Jonathan asked looking into her eyes. She shrugged.  
"Nothing just thinking."

Jonathan smirked before he leered at her. "About me?" Against her will Catherine's face went redder than a tomato as it warmed involuntarily. She looked off to the side. "You wish."  
Suddenly Jonathan's face was there next to hers, his lips gracing the shell of her ear.

**"You're right.**" He stood up as if nothing happened as he went for the front door. "Oh Catherine?" She looked at him glass eyed as her thoughts wandered back to his lips. He noted the confused and starved look on her face an inwardly a darker part of him took pleasure from it.  
"I'll be late from work, try not to kill yourself."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: Okay, major plot twists from here on out! Read review and enjoy!**

**StoneUndertaker: ...I don't think either of us are legally old enough to get married...**

**Guest: Thanks!**

**punkrocker2425070899153: Yeah, I wanted the reader to feel/understand the confusion Catherine was feeling throughout the entire exchange. But anyway, thank you very much!**

Xxxxxxxxxx

"I'm sorry...doctor Crane isn't here right now. If you leave a message, he'll be sure to get back to you."

Jonathan was thrown down, forgotten as the bat went for the woman, completely prone on saving her.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Rachel Dawes was dead. Jonathan was being held by the very Asylum that had previously employed him. Catherine, in response to this news had remained silent; digesting the information. When the investigators had stormed the apartment with a warrant, she had at first thought that she herself was the target.

She had been told to stay where they could see her while they searched the house. They came up with nothing more than a handful of letters that described the transaction of some secret business, and some pointless phone records (mostly Catherine's).

After the initial questioning which Catherine deemed entirely pointless did the investigators decided that Catherine was no threat and they had everything that was needed. They had then promptly left her to her thoughts as she herself decided to do some exploring of her own.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Crane considered the room he had been placed in, straightjacket keeping his movements limited. The white walls were stained with a brown grime that portrayed the illusion of sliding down the wall. The effects of the toxin that the damned bat had thrown at him were still lingering and so, whenever he looked at the grime a silhouette of a leering crow would look back at him.

Xxxxxxxxxx

She had gone in his room on a whim and hadn't been surprised when she saw how organized it must have originally been before being searched by the police. She stepped into the room that had always been an unspoken 'off limits' area. She studied the room, the disheveled clothes that had been ripped from the wardrobe. The floor was covered in scattered papers and books. And yet the bed had remained untouched. She wiggled out of her tennis shoes as she sat on the edge of the bed.

Her fingers traced the fabric of the comforter thoughtfully. Finally she sighed as she climbed onto the mattress and like a child crawled up the length of the bed until she clutched one of his pillows to her chest, nuzzling her face into the softness she allowed a small whimper to escape her lips as the pillow became wet with tears.

She recovered after a few moments as she wiped her eyes, smearing tears across her cheeks. She hated the weakness she felt for this man, no this murderer. She sighed and shook her hair out. Looking up Catherine stared at her reflection. She hadn't known that Jonathan had a mirror in his room, particularly not a broken one. Curious she stood and approached the glass before tugging at one of the jagged edges. It came off easily but not before thinly slicing her thumb. She put the wound in her mouth as her other hand traveled into the darkened space behind the broken mirror. Her hand hit something hard. She groped it, looking for a place to grab it by. Moments later she was staring at an old fashioned briefcase, a combination lock between her and whatever was inside.

Languidly her fingers turned the numbers to specific dates, birthdays or labels. She cried out in frustration.

"One more time..." Catherine muttered, intent on making this one the winning number.

**31-94-1**

The lock fell from the clasp with a clang. She raised a brow. It had been a random number that had popped up into her head...oh, yes. She remembered now, while she had been under surveillance at the Asylum until they had found her a suitable psychologist, they had given her a number. A number that they addressed her by, a number that portrayed her entire existence within the walls of the Asylum.

"31941...why would he...?" Catherine whispered quietly as she pried the briefcase open.

Notebooks, loose papers and tape recorders were organized within the case. She tested the tape recorders and found that they were all missing tape. She placed them back as she reached for some of the notebooks.

There was a green one, a blue one and a very familiar black one. She unconsciously gulped as she reached for the black one. Her fingers shook as she ran them across the title that was scratched in pen:  
_Catherine H. Subject 9 Observations. _

Underneath the black notebook with her name were six small, but very familiar canisters.

She dropped the notebook with a thud. She stared at them, as if they would pounce on her if she were to turn. She covered her face with her hands.  
"Unbelievable." She said loudly. Her left hand went to her side as her right hand moved to a more casual position. A sardonic smirk grazed her lips as a slow rumble escaped her throat. The rumble grew to a chuckle which soon escalated into a laugh. She let her head roll back as her hand went to her stomach. She kept laughing until she felt eyes watching her. She turned eyes dangerously glaring at the figure which stood within Jonathan's doorway.

"It seems that Jonathan wasn't the one that needed to be placed in the Asylum." Came a chillingly amused voice. The man's goatee quivered as he spoke, his stress lines lazily creasing with his movements.

"Henri." Catherine addressed. She had no doubt that he knew exactly what Jonathan had been doing this entire time. He stepped into the room and glanced over the briefcase and its insides. He then studied her, slight interest on his face.

"Most people would be crying by now, or have gone insane. Especially if they had digested as much information as you have. Catherine shrugged, her nonchalant attitude coming back easily.  
"I guess we're all a bit crazy...me more than others."

Henri nodded in agreement before he turned to Catherine an expression of seriousness on his face.  
"What would you do to get your precious Dr. back?" He asked. Catherine looked up at him, eyes cold, hands resting firmly on her hips, feet spread into a fighting stance.

"Anything." She said with a voice that held a grave promise. Henri smiled then as he handed her a disk safely protected by a clear case. In answer to her confused look Henri pivoted and began to walk out the door. Before exiting completely he cocked his head to the side and called back to her.  
"Such loyalty..." He whispered before he continued "That's a looped tape for the security camera's at the Asylum. It only has about thirty minutes worth of video on it before it ejects automatically. I trust you can get past security by yourself? Oh and you may want to hurry, batman can only be so patient. "

**Alright, so the number for the combination are actually inspired by the fact that 'Scarecrow' first appeared in the '**_**World's finest Comics' **__**#3 **_** in the year 1941...yeah. **

**R&R!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A villain must be a thing of power, handled with delicacy and grace. He must be wicked enough to excite our aversion, strong enough to arouse our fear, human enough to awaken some transient gleam of sympathy. We must triumph in his downfall, yet not barbarously nor with contempt, and the close of his career must be in harmony with all its previous development. -Agnes Repplier**

Xxxxxxxxxxx

She watched his large ugly hands as they pointed to certain area's that would be perfect to hide in if necessary. Air ducts were shown, although she doubted she would need those. The map had been crudely drawn, but she had been assured that it was accurate.  
"Doll face, you uh...there?" Joker asked watching her, his grin never changing. She looked up at him and flashed a small uncomfortable smile. "Please continue." The white face paint stretched in unison with his smile. "Uh, I uh, got people on the inside. I'll tell them to get ready, oh and uh, not to kill you."

Catherine nodded, her smile still in place. "Thanks...I didn't actually think I'd be using that calling card of yours..."  
Joker frowned. "Well that would have been unacceptable."  
"Right...I think I should get there soon, apparently Henri's doing something big, and I'm not sure I want to be out and about when it happens."  
Joker giggled slightly as he snapped his fingers, signally a man to step forward. "Doll face, we'll give you a ride, I'd hate to miss this show."

Xxxxxxxxxxx

She stares straight ahead as they take the briefcase away from her, placing it through the x-ray. She raises her arms dully as they physically pat her down before checking for anything metal, it reminds her of the airport. Her mind wanders as she waits for her things to come out from the other side of the conveyor belt.

The Joker's words ring through her head.

_Twenty minutes ago; in the car._

_"Ya know Doll face...you could use a name." Joker said, his feet sticking up, leaning against the window. Catherine notes that when he isn't violently psychotic he's much like a child. Catherine lifts her head from the window. "I have a name." Joker frowns and glares at her.  
"No, a NAME. Not Catherine, not Jonathan, not fucking Brad! Joker, Scarecrow, Batman! A NAME!" Joker says fingering his knife playfully even as his hands make spastic symbols. Now it is Catherine's turn to glare. "I'm not a criminal like you. I don't need a 'name.'" _

_Joker sat up and started laughing horribly, his body folding into itself as his eyes closed with the hilarity he apparently found in the situation. Suddenly he became serious as he looked dead at Catherine. _

_"You're consorting with me, (that should uh, count for something), you're about to lie to government officials and break your boyfriend out of an asylum in the same hour. You're smuggling in god knows what in that briefcase." Suddenly his lips caught up to his scars making an ugly grin. "Admit it, uh kid, you became a criminal the moment you uh, got involved with the doc." _

_Present:_

Her fingers trailed over the roughly drawn map as she searched for one specific thing. Finally she found the label, written in red ink so as to be clearly seen.  
'Security, guards!'

"Perfect..." Catherine whispered slowly. She walked quickly and quietly, keeping her face out of the way of curious onlookers. She stayed close to the wall, briefcase against her thigh the whole time. After many unbearable twists and turns she found what she was looking for, two large doors leading into an even larger room filled with what looked like audio speakers and mini TV's, pictures flashing across at different speeds. Taking a deep breath she readied herself as she clutched the briefcase tighter, and stepping forward, plunged into the point of no return.

"Aaron Cash?" She called out, revealing herself. Immediately a strong looking African American man looked up at her in surprise. Three other guards stood as if prepared to remove her. Catherine tried her best to look important. "What is it?" Aaron asked his voice suspicious. Catherine coughed.

"You and your men are needed in Director Sharp's office." She said, keeping her voice level and business like. When they hesitated for a moment she raised her hand in a 'go on' gesture. "He doesn't like to be kept waiting." She chided practically shoving them out of the room. The men left not entirely sure what was going and Catherine went to work. She located Jonathan easily enough on one of the screens. He was sitting on what looked like an uncomfortable chair, strapped tightly within a straight jacket. She noted that his glasses had been taken.

She bit her lip as she slid the disk into what she assumed was the input. After a moment the screens became black and white fuzz before going back to taping. Even though the footage was old. Catherine heard steps from the outside of the door and quickly lunged through the back exit. Making her way further along the hallway Catherine made sure to keep her eyes open for everything. Though no one seemed entirely interested in her, and for that she thanked god.

A nurse had walked past her in a hurry and hadn't noticed her, stumbling headlong into Catherine. The nurse wobbled slightly as she tried to gain her balance. When she did regain her balance she glared scathingly at Catherine before leaving in a huff. Catherine looked at the floor and saw that the nurse had dropped a small tape recorder, but it wasn't what it was that interested Catherine, but more so what it was labeled.

_Patient interview #3 Jonathan Crane._

She now deeply regretted that she wouldn't have time to listen to it and so with a promise to listen to it later she quickly pocketed the device before continuing down further and further, until she had reached 'Asylum Floor C.'

Floor C was reserved for unstable patients with violent habits and almost whip like emotions. The living period in floor C was 15 years minimum. No doubt the Joker had been kept on floor D. A floor for the psychotically insane, the people who were deemed beyond violent. Floor D also contained the morgue. Catherine herself had spent some time lounging about on floor A. And for that she was grateful. The treatment of inmates/patients got worse the lower you got. She walked quickly past a few clear cells and some barred cells. She could hear some cat calls and some profanity being yelled in her direction, but she ignored them completely. She was here for one person. She reached the last cell, his cell.

His cell was a four wall cell, unable to see other inmates and the only entrance was a heavy duty steel door that would require dynamite to break. Catherine swallowed as she reached the wall next to the door, on the wall were two individual places to type in a code that would either open all the cells on C block or one individual cell.

Henri Ducard had been kind enough to give her the code for each floor.

The numbers had been typed in quickly and shakily. She squeezed her eyes shut when she heard many clicks which signified the opening of cells. Within seconds shouts and hollers were heard, she opened her eyes and saw the inmates running off down the hall, no doubt to escape.

She sighed, grateful for having been ignored then she turned and pushed Jonathan's door open.

He looked at her for a moment before his signature smirk pulled at his lips. Catherine said nothing as she walked over to him and unbuckled the straightjacket. Jonathan stood, happy for his freedom of movement.  
"Why Catherine, what a surprise-" He didn't get to finish as his face was suddenly pointing an entirely different direction than it had originally been facing. White hot pain seared his cheek as his eyes widened. Catherine was breathing heavily and her eyes were watery. Her hand was still raised.

"Bastard..." She whispered. But stopped when she suddenly felt a bruising hand clutch her throat and slam her into the wall. Jonathan's knee moved up between her legs keeping her locked in position. Catherine's eyes widened as she stared into his own eyes which were now far darker than before.

**"Don't ever raise your hand to me again."** Scarecrow commanded dangerously. His grip on her neck tightened and Catherine felt her insides churn. Suddenly she forced her face forward, slamming her lips on top of his. Their teeth raked as she tried desperately to pull him as close as physically possible. Jonathan and Scarecrow both seemed more than eager to respond as she was pushed more firmly against the wall.

She didn't care where the attention came from, whether it was good or bad and if he planned on disposing of her later. She was far too busy reveling in the feeling of _now._

She pulled back, breathing shallow. Jonathan was watching her, his eyes somewhere between fascination and expectation. She coughed. "I thought you might want this." Catherine whispered reaching into the briefcase, she pulled out the burlap mask that she still feared. Jonathan watched her as she slowly lifted the mask up and pulled it over top his face, securing it. "Oh, and these." Catherine murmured as she pulled from her pocket the six canisters that she had found earlier. The burlap face nodded as he reached out and grabbed the things from her. Catherine blushed as she stepped back and acted like a child no longer knowing what to do.  
"Uh...good luck and, well..." She sighed frustrated before looking at his face, covered in burlap. "Don't die you idiot." With that she rushed out, headed to level D where she would have to be particularly careful not to be seen by any guards or particularly any inmates.

Jonathan watched her leave. His head was still pounding as he toyed with the canisters. Scarecrow decided to intervene however.

**Can we keep her?**

Jonathan didn't respond at first before slowly beneath the mask a grin that could rival the Joker's grew.

_Yes, I do believe we can. _

**Mwhahaha, end of chapter!  
Leave me review to wake up to, pretty please? =)**


	10. Chapter 10

**The Interview tape can be found on YouTube; just look up: Batman Arkham Asylum Patient Interviews: Scarecrow.  
The interview used in this chapter is the third one I believe...  
You know...I considered stopping this story on the last chapter, I mean...if I had it wouldn't have been a half bad ending...But I didn't so anyway, Read and review!**

_"Patient interview 9. Dr. Crane continues to evade questions. I believe he is quite sane. Just evil. He takes no interest in the people he has hurt. His research appears to be the only motivating factor in his life. What is it about fear that drives your obsessions?" _The static affected voice of Dr. Kellerman came from the small recording device. Jonathan answered then, the sound of fabric rubbing against itself evident._ "Fear drives everything, Stephen. Everything. Your life is governed by fear. Every decision you make is a product of that fear."  
__"Don't be ridiculous."_

_"You married your wife...Margaret, isn't it?...because you were scared of dying alone. You have children because you are scared of leaving nothing behind that really matters. You go to the doctors because you're scared of dying. Do I need to go on?"_

_"No. I think that will be all for today. Guards!"_

Catherine pulled the recorder away from her ear as she gazed across the chaos.

Smoke, fog and screams filled the air. And for once it wasn't just happening in her head. She watched as a boy wielding what she assumed was a baseball bat practically pummeled a man beneath him. She having been watching when the event took place knew that it wasn't out of anger that the boy destroyed the man, but fear.

She scratched her nose as the boy suddenly screamed and stumbled back from demons that remained unseen by Catherine. The boy kept calling out, yelling for help and crying for whatever it was to stop.

Catherine took another sip of water as she smirked, her breath fogging the window.

"Welcome to the narrows kid. No one's going to save you." She sighed and turned around noting with distaste that the mess had only seemed to spread. "I only hit him on the head..." Catherine grumbled pulling the large elderly gentleman who owned the house she was currently occupying as of twenty minutes ago. She pressed two fingers against his sweaty neck and she sighed.

The man still had a pulse.

She grinned suddenly, pulling herself to her full height as she covered her eyes with the palm of her hands. "HA!" She cried out at the thin air. She dragged her hands down her face until they wrapped about her chest, constricting.

"A walking heart attack in the dark...that's what he is." She whispered after a moment. Suddenly she sighed and looked at the unconscious man. "Sorry about this, really I am...I just needed somewhere to hide while all this crap played out. Don't worry though, I'm leaving now." Catherine said casually to the man as if he would respond at any moment. She quickly gathered her things, pulling on a gas mask that Henri had given her the moment she had exited the asylum. He had merely told her that she would be needing it before he seemed to vanish.

She left the apartment quietly, the door left open behind her.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

**"Fascinating. I never would have imagined that their fear and hopelessness would drive them to ****this****. It is a more hideous reaction than I ever dared ****dream****. How positively ****glorious****...!"** Scarecrow laughed loudly from his vantage point above one of Gotham's many building's. He looked up, his eyes following the tram as it darted past building's before disappearing from his sight completely.

Burlap tickled against Jonathan's skin as his lips played against the stitched edge. He hoped Catherine had as wonderful a view as he did.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Catherine watched the tram as well, but not with the same amount of joy as Jonathan had. Perhaps originally, but now she was only filled with dread, for the tracks had been blown away by a very aggressive looking black car.

"Well...that changes things."

A small sarcastic voice in the back of her head seemed highly amused however.  
_Poor Henri._

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Jonathan had watched face contorted with rage as the tram hit the ground, flinging itself sideways as it skimmed across the pavement and into a parking garage. Scarecrow was flaring in the back of his mind, practically screeching. He clenched and unclenched his fist slowly before a resounding bang went off. On reflex his hand went to his shoulder, where the pain had bloomed like a flower. He raised his fingers to his eyes and saw that red now stained them.

Jonathan released any control he once had as he turned slowly. Scarecrow grinned.  
**"Why don't you tell me what you're scared of?"**

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Catherine held him close the moment he stumbled through the apartment door. She ignored the blood that stained his hands and the blood that stained hers. She focused solely on the heat his body radiated. She clawed at his mask like a dog, attempting to pull it off. Finally it fell to the floor and when it did Catherine was pushed back until both were tangled on the floor.

Catherine pushed him off when she saw his shoulder. Her face became serious as she pulled the clothing from the wound. Her eyes narrowed. "What happened?" She asked quietly. Jonathan turned his face to the side in an attempt to avoid her gaze. "Some idiot with a gun." suddenly he looked at her gleefully.

"You should have heard him squeal. There is nothing so intoxicating as the scream of a traumatized child." He whispered as he pushed his forehead against hers. Catherine smirked.  
"Tell me about it later, but for now I need to clean that." She whispered as she got up and headed toward her room.

She returned shortly with a first aid kit and a pair of tweezers, along with rubbing alcohol. Jonathan looked down for a moment as if in shame.  
"I failed." He said slowly. Suddenly he cried out as terrible stinging took hold of his senses. Jonathan and Scarecrow each glared at her angrily. She had dumped the rubbing alcohol on his wound and was now beginning to rub with a vengeance.  
"No, no you didn't. You gave them a taste of what you're capable of...we just can't do this alone."

_We?_

**Oh we are definitely keeping her.**

She applied some pressure as she tenderly pulled the injury gauze, up over and around in a continuous cycle as the bullet hole was wrapped. She gave him a look as she smirked once more. "Lucky for you, I know just the guy."

Xxxxxxxxxxx

The joker had certainly enjoyed the show from his spot as he watched everything unfold, his grin never fading. He had even gotten a glimpse of Catherine push her way into someone's apartment, sending them to the floor within instants. It made him proud to have been the one to help her in her 'one bad day'.

He suddenly started giggling, his knife held tightly in his fingers.  
"All it takes is one bad day!"


	11. Chapter 11

They had to move. Like nomads. Never in one place for too long. Catherine would find an appropriate place in which to operate, while Jonathan would handle the rest. Usually they remained in the shadows of the narrows, keeping their eyes open for a dark figure that could at anytime fly over them.

Catherine flipped through the paper in boredom before her eyes widened.

"Memorial service for Rachel Dawes. To be held at Bruce Wayne manor; now renovated..." Catherine read aloud, glimpsing over the paper. She was currently alone, in a small rundown building that was frequented by no one. She sighed as she put her fingers to her eyes; which she rubbed tiredly. For two weeks she had been attempting to re-contact the joker, and every day she had failed. Jonathan was constantly flipping through large books with medical terms and information that Catherine couldn't possibly comprehend.

She scratched her nose and stood, reaching for a can of pepper spray she went out the door, tired of the musty smell of the building. She didn't bother locking the door, after all it would've been useless anyway.

She didn't make it twenty meters before she was stopped by a large burly man, a distinctive tattoo on his face.

"Boss wants to see you." he said gruffly, not even asking her permission as he pulled her by the wrist. Catherine didn't hesitate as she pulled from her pocket, the trusty bottle of pepper spray. She aimed with her eyes tightly closed as she felt a wheezing of pressure being released. As the man she sprayed fell to the ground another man jumped out from the driver's seat of a car next to Catherine. He caught her off guard when he pulled out a gun. He pushed her into the back seat of the car, his pistol never leaving her forehead. He then reached into the glove compartment, pulling out a dark bottle and a cloth.

Within moments Catherine's vision was dark.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

She awoke to the feel of cool air running up her spine. If it wasn't for the bindings holding her she would've shot straight up.

Looking around wildly she spotted the joker; his mouth shaped into a sheepish grin, the sides of his face twisting up as his lips rose slightly.

"Hi."

Catherine merely glared. The joker raised his hands in surrender, "I know you're mad but, uh, if it makes you feel better I uh, killed the idiots." he said inclining his head to the right. Catherine looked and smirked. The two men who had forcibly thrown her into the car were limply crumpled on top of each other, their cheeks pulled back into violent bloody grins.

"Thanks." she said simply. His grin widened as he leaned forward, his hands together, fingers playing against each other. "So I hear you were looking for me." he stated. "I also hear that your doc has a plan."

"You hear a lot or things."

"It's in the job description. Now do uh, tell."

Catherine smiled in amusement. "Jonathan would like to see this city fall to its knees." the joker looked at her pointedly. "And you?"

"Me? I'm just here for the show."

The joker broke into a fit of giggles. "Ha! A woman after my own heart. I uh, like you doll face."

Catherine ignored his last comment as she squeezed her lips and cocked her head to the side. "What about you? What's your plan?" the joker looked at her like she was stupid.

"I don't do plans. Chaos however... That I can do. But I uh, wouldn't mind seeing this city burn." Catherine smirked. "Maybe we could play off of each other's abilities." the Joker flashed her a toothy grin in reply. He scooted his chair toward her, his knife suddenly visible. He began to cut her bindings meticulously while humming. Catherine rubbed her raw wrists as her thoughts went to Jonathan.

"Oh doll face?" the joker said snapping his fingers, easily gaining her attention. "Hmmm?"

"I sent one of my boys to you and the uh, docs hide out. Let's just say your boyfriends a little uh, less than happy that you're gone." Catherine looked at him skeptically.

"What do you mean?"

He ignored her as his tongue jutted across the red of his lips. His eyes suddenly gleaming with some unseen prospect.

"Maybe we should send him an invitation?"

Xxxxxxxxxxx

He hadn't noticed anything at first when he had entered the abandoned building that they had been using as a makeshift rooting spot until they found more permanent lodging. At first he had assumed that she was up in the rafters again, looking through whatever articles in the newspaper that she could. She would usually be looking out the window like a hawk, reporting to him useless information that would make him wish that (if only for his amusement) she would tumble off the rafters.

However the length of silence that was held when he had entered was not something he had ever experienced while being in Catherine's company. She would always stop what she was doing and continually pester him about things he'd rather not discuss, or worse she would merely follow him like an anxious child wanting their parents to buy them a new game. And when the latter took place he was usually forced to play chess with her.

It was sad how bad she was at the game.

After a moment of the silence his fists clenched.

_She wouldn't have..._

**Give her some credit Johnny boy...we did threaten her remember?**

_And when has that ever worked?_

There was no reply as Jonathan began to peruse the building. There were only two rooms. The large main room where they would spend most of their time, where meals would take place and where experiments would occasionally take place. A darker side of Jonathan glowed with pride as he recalled Catherine tying down a woman who had been found snooping around. She had done so with only a glance in his directions, as if she were asking for permission. Once she had been given it she moved with purpose, as if she was suddenly enjoying the power she had been given.

The second room was Catherine's. Without much thought toward modesty he stormed in. He wasn't surprised to find the room in shambles, nearly identical to the room she kept in the apartment. She noted the calendar that hung near the head of her sleeping area, a clock ticking soundlessly next to it.

_Such a creature of habit._

His fingers traced over the blanket that lay crumpled beneath the calendar and clock. He pulled the blanket back when his fingers hit something hard.

His eyes hardened with slight aggravation and disappointment. Scarecrow however was grinning.

**Quite the snoop we have on our hands, she definitely needs to be punished.**

_No argument there._


	12. Chapter 12

Jonathan had said nothing as he was shoved into the van, guns pressed against his head. Jonathan had merely nodded in understanding when one of the larger men had told him to not do anything stupid or his head would splatter.

They had pulled a dark cloth bag over his head, causing his vision to become opaque, then they had wrapped his wrists together behind his back with what he assumed was a nylon rope. He sat awkwardly; his back craned slightly, trying to compensate for the cramped space of the inside of the van.

**Why are we cooperating again?**

Jonathan remained silent for approximately ten minutes until the van stopped jerkily. The bag was torn off of his head, he opened his eyes in annoyance. His vision was slightly foggy, his glasses having been confiscated by one of the men. The men all wore ridiculous clown masks, each one perceiving an over-exaggerated grin, hair of preposterous color sticking from the plastic. They pulled him up gruffly by the tie of his makeshift handcuffs. They forced him into a standing position as one of the men pulled out a knife. Jonathan inwardly frowned but stopped when he felt the man start trimming the fibers of his restraints.

"Now, don't do nothing stupid-" The man never got to finish what he was saying as the instant Jonathan's wrists were free he lunged forward, encasing the man's neck with his bony hands. The other men were slow to react, which they paid for greatly when Jonathan had appeared in front of them, syringes in hand.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Catherine felt even more frustrated than she ever had in her life. More frustrated even than she had been when Jonathan had always flicked her king over as if it were nothing. She pushed herself up onto her hands, the table creaking as she did so. She stared hard at the card the Joker had pulled from the deck, as he stated the exact card which it was with his eyes closed, head turned away.

He was grinning.

Catherine huffed.

"This is stupid, you're obviously using some sort of trick." She complained, crossing her arms over her chest. One of the Joker's goons was laughing his masked ass off in the corner of the room, apparently knowing something she didn't. "Here give me the cards." Catherine demanded, putting her hand out impatiently. The joker's eyebrows raised slightly before he giggled.

"Sorry doll face, uh, you got to try harder than that." The joker said casually as he shuffled the deck once more. Catherine sighed as she slammed her head on the table, attempting to rid herself of the sudden onslaught of boredom. Her head shot up however when the door to the lounging room they were currently passing time in was slammed open, and a very impatient looking psychologist stormed in.

Catherine visibly paled while the Joker only started to laugh. Jonathan however wasn't at all focused on the clown as he was on Catherine, completely prone to lunge at her. Suddenly he smirked and sauntered towards her, grabbing her by the wrist he pulled her past the still laughing Joker, and slightly annoyed guard into the room that Catherine had been told was hers.

The joker's voice was heard behind them, apparently directed toward the guard. "Let's leave the love birds alone and uh, go bear hunting, huh?"

The door was shut violently trapping Catherine in the corner of the room like a scared mouse, and Jonathan a poised snake. He clasped his hands behind his back, craning his neck forward.

"So, I see you've taken to getting kidnapped by a clown and taking my personal things all in the same week. Quite an achievement." Jonathan complimented mockingly, taking a step toward her. Catherine swallowed.

"In my defense, it had my name on it." Jonathan ignored her comment as his body pressed against her, the white peeling paint of the wall scratching against Catherine's arms.

With practiced precision Jonathan took Catherine's wrist and with an inaudible gasp escaping her lips, he successfully pinned them above her head with only one hand. Not that she would fight off anyway. His free hand trailed her side playfully and tickling causing her to squirm. He couldn't have her moving so much he decided and so, he grasped her forehead and pushed it back violently into the wall.

She whimpered suddenly scared. "J-Jonathan-"  
A guttural growl cut her off as the psychiatrists teeth bit down violently on her jaw, causing her to yelp.

**"No, not Jonathan, not now."**

Catherine couldn't help the gasp that escaped her as his hand moved from her face to her hip, squeezing tightly, he pushed himself between her legs, keeping her successfully pinned against the wall. Her face flushed at the contact. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head to the side, suddenly embarrassed.  
**"Names are about to become very important...wouldn't want you screaming the wrong one."**

And with that Catherine plunged past the point of no return.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Catherine had watched him; her chin resting on his chest childishly. When he slept he was vulnerable, and yet untouchable. If she so much as moved to trace his lips she knew that somehow she would end up with an extremely heavy consequence. She was content with this arrangement as she snuggled closer to him, his bare chest tickling her nose.

It had definitely been interesting, letting the Scarecrow take control of everything.

She sighed as she saw Jonathan's eyes flutter open, before landing on her. She gave him a cheeky grin as a hello as he forced himself into a sitting position, causing her to sit up as well. She noted with slight distaste that all their clothes had been scattered rather haphazardly across the room, messily covering things. She shivered as the cold air licked across her skin teasingly. She wrapped her arms about herself closing her eyes briefly before opening them, finding Jonathan's gaze on her. She blushed at his unsubtle staring.

"What?" she asked, trying to diffuse the tightness she felt in her stomach. he was silent for a moment before he looked at her lopsidedly.  
"Just thinking." He replied quietly as he stood, picking his clothes off the ground meticulously.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So you've uh, decided to grace us with your presence, uh have you?" The Joker asked as he chewed something that looked vaguely like an egg. Jonathan merely grumbled.  
"Shut up clown."

Joker giggled. Catherine sighed tiredly as she rubbed the darkening circles beneath her eyes. She looked at the joker suddenly curious.

"How was Bear hunting?"


	13. Chapter 13

His lips were rough, yet his hands soft. A nice contrast Catherine decided as Jonathan's hands slid through her hair, his lips bruising against hers. Their lips separated momentarily as burlap pulled over Jonathan's face, encasing his head with a new skin. The scratch of the fabric caused Catherine to shiver as she felt it rub against her.

"What would you do for me?" Jonathan whispered his voice dripping with mischief as Catherine felt the burlap skin tickle further along her neck.  
"Anything." She replied quietly.  
"Anything?" Jonathan asked lazily as he smirked behind his mask. He had her now. Catherine sighed happily as she felt Jonathan's fingers twist into her hair once again, wrapping ringlets about the digits.

"Anything." She said again, this time with grim determination.  
She was his completely.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

No one was the wiser as she stepped from the van. Wearing Crane's most prominent suit, her chest wrapped tightly so as to disguise herself as a man. She had pushed her hair into the mask with shaking fingers. She was going to be Scarecrow, if only for a night.

She allowed a deep throated chuckle to be released. Her voice came out slightly scratchy, and altogether masculine, an almost replication of the Scarecrows angrily amused tone of voice.

"I did say that my product would take you places...not necessarily one's you wanted to visit."

As the heavy Italian accent of the mafia boss rang across the indoor parking lot that they were using as a meeting space, Catherine's excitement reached its peak as everyone ducked, attempting to avoid the sudden onslaught of bullets.

Catherine wasn't certain if it was batman, or just some copycats, as she wasn't given much time to ponder her question as she felt a solid punch land on her chest. She reacted quickly however as she pounced upon the fake vigilante, shoving her hand into his face, squeezing a button that Jonathan had showed her. A white powdery mist was sprayed ineloquently into the man's face as he cried out in pain. Catherine smirked, before her smile wavered slightly at the sudden appearance of the actual Batman.

The volunteer vigilantes were taken care of easily as Catherine threw herself into her van and slammed her foot on the gas pedal.

She wasn't entirely keen on the idea of having to deal with the flying rodent. And so, she drove.

Of course he pursued and eventually forced her to (rather erratically) spin into a cement pillar, the force of the impact heaving her into the driver's window.

She had forgotten to put a seatbelt on.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Where is he?" Demanded the gruff voice of the masked Bat as he pushed Catherine next to the now restrained volunteer vigilantes.

"Who?" Catherine asked as casually as she could with bruised ribs. In response Batman growled and turned. The men to the left and right of her called out to batman.  
"We can help!" One cried particularly loud.

Catherine laughed. "Oh please, you need more help than him."

**Short chapter I know, but...I'm exhausted...I'll update soon this time, I promise. **


	14. Chapter 14

Catherine's head ached. Morning nailed at her eyes.

She looked at her cell wall. It is the same cell that Jonathan had. Although naturally, she lacks the straight jacket.

Catherine has been in this cell for three hours in total, and already she feels at home. Her arms reach towards the ceiling as a yawn is released from her mouth, her body sore all over from having been thrown into glass. She doesn't show it though.

Catherine kicked the wall and screamed. She reels and smashed her body into the wall. A disfigured daughter of lunatics. The camera in the corner of the room gazed at her impassively, glass eye unaffected.

"No offense." Catherine said with a terrible, sycophantish smile, and tip of an imaginary hat.

What the camera didn't know, was that Catherine was perfectly content to stay within the whitewash of her cell. If the Joker followed his end of the bargain, her cell would turn out to be the safest place in Gotham.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"You uh...miss your girlfriend?" The Joker asked with a slight giggle, as he spread his hands out on the table in front of him, leaning forward cockily toward Jonathan. The psychologist's eyes sharpen behind their glasses as his fingers thrummed on the table.

"It is necessary for her to be in Arkham if our plan is to succeed." Jonathan answered, voice drifting. The Joker's cheek twitches. "That's not what I uh asked doc."  
"Don't you have a bank to rob?"

Jonathan stood from his seat, having grown bored of the conversation. He barely heard Joker's taunting cry of 'ah young love' before he disappeared into the room that Jonathan and Catherine had quietly shared. Although now Jonathan supposed it was only his.

_**You think she'll get the job done?**_

_Without a doubt. Why? _

_**The sooner we get her back the better.**_

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"Bastards! Sons of Bitches!" Catherine screeched as she was hauled from the cafeteria, her hands clipped behind her back. Catherine didn't stop her tirade until she heard the door to her cell shut behind her. She whooped loudly, then covered her ears and hushed. She sounded silly.

Her sudden awareness of foolishness made her calm. She showed the whites of her teeth to the camera in a wolfish grin before climbing onto her mattress, and rolling to the side. She reached into her pocket and felt the sharp sting of the safety pin that Eddie had kindly passed her while they had been eating.

After the exchange she had been enjoying her meal when the guards had come in, pushing all the more violent prone prisoners to a corner, while moving everyone else back to their cells.

Apparently, a bank had been robbed.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx


	15. Chapter 15

The B ward in Arkham asylum, was no more fun than the C ward. Quincy Sharp made sure of that. And so, when he opened his personal laptop in his office to watch the security camera's on live feed, he was quite satisfied with the sunken faces of Arkham's more disgusting slum. However, his cheery attitude was crumpled when the video went to ward B in the cafeteria.

Catherine Hale was staring at the camera.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Catherine liked the B ward. It was cleaner than the C ward. Although since she had been transferred she hadn't been able to have riddle battles with Eddie.

But, she could get visitors. And she did, it was only one visitor, and he didn't even have to tell her his name.

_Xxxxxxxxxxxx_

_Catherine wiggled her bare toes against the linoleum floor as the guards pushed her into the plastic seat that sat adjacent from another empty seat. The steel table between the two seats reflected the ceiling light. _

_Catherine waited approximately thirty seconds before the door to the interrogation room opened. A giggle bubbled from her stomach as she looked at the somewhat flustered man who sat down opposite of her. _

_Catherine put her cuffed hands on the table as she crossed her toes. She smiled maliciously.  
"Hello Mayor Garcia~. What brings you to my humble asylum?" She questioned casually. The mayor's eyes hardened before he turned to the security guards._

_"Leave, I'm sure I can handle her myself." _

_The guards looked uneasy for a moment, before complacently following their orders and exiting the room. After a moment he looked at Catherine. _

_"I gave the man who watches the camera's a pack of cigarettes, we've got five minutes at most." The mayor began urgently. Catherine eyed him curiously. _

_"What is it that you need?" _

_The mayors fingers clenched and unclenched as he grit his teeth.  
"He's got my wife." He whispered fiercely. Catherine looked bored.  
"I'm sorry, who?" _

_Her glibness was silenced quickly however as the mayor's hands grabbed her prison frock by the collar. _

_"Where the fuck is he?" _

_Catherine's eyes widened slightly before her lower lip quivered. The mayor thought she was about to cry, but was proved incorrect as her lips pulled back into a toothy grin. _

_"You got a pencil?" _

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That had been yesterday, and still no one had noticed the pencil that Catherine kept in the wire of her bra. No one had noticed her daily staring contests with the security camera's. except of course the people on the other side of the camera.

No one noticed the pencil shavings that were found underneath the cafeteria tables after Catherine had sharpened the pencil on the metal of the benches.

No one noticed Catherine slip into the center of the very crowded cafeteria meal line. Her figure was quickly engulfed by moving bodies, huddling together, completely hiding her.

But everyone noticed when the first punch was thrown. Within seconds the hoard of hungry patients turned into a hoard of violent, unstable inmates.

And still, no one noticed Catherine drop the pencil in front of one of the more notoriously violent of Ward B's patients, and no one noticed Catherine run at that same patient. Not until the yelp of pain caused a pause. The pencil that Catherine had dropped was picked up, and like a shank, was jabbed forward into the crowd strongly. The sharpened tip of the pencil broke Catherine's skin before plunging deeper into her neck. Her right jugular opened, and a cascade of blood followed.

Not a single patient nor guard saw the triumphant gleam in Catherine's eyes just before she was slammed into unconsciousness.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Both the Joker and Jonathan Crane watched the dusty T.V. with mild interest.

"Arkham patient Catherine Hale was injured earlier today during a cafeteria riot. Apparently the weapon used was a pencil, how it got into the hands of a patient is unknown but investigators..."

Joker clicked the button on the T.V., successfully muting it.

His red lips widened as his coal black eyes sparkled.

"Let me uh guess, the Doc's gonna go take care of the patient?" He asked playfully, tongue sliding across his lower lip. Jonathan pushed his glasses up the bridge of his glasses before allowing a small smirk to skim his features.

"That is the doctor's job after all."


	16. Chapter 16

Catherine knows the plan. She's rehearsed multiple scenarios within her head. The nurses that check her stitches and morphine are unaware of her malicious intent however as she stares blankly at the television which has been installed in the infirmary ward of the asylum.  
Catherine's ankles and wrists have been strapped to the generic hospital bed that she's spent the past twenty seven hours on.

She hadn't slept a single hour of them.

She let loose a few harsh coughs, causing the on duty nurse to poke her head in. She had wide brown eyes that seemed to be frightened of their own shadows.

"Something the matter?" She asked timidly as she stepped up to the side of the bed. Catherine coughed again and moved her chin downward as she rasped: "Take these off."

The nurse shook her head anxiously as she apologetically sighed. "Sorry I'm under strict orders not to-"

"Take. These. Off." Catherine clipped shortly, in no mood to argue with the nurse.

After a moment of hesitation the nurse nodded her agreement as she moved forward and peeled back the gauze, relieving the heat of Catherine's neck.

Catherine says that that was all she needed, and the nurse leaves. As soon as the door clicks shut Catherine cracks her neck and leans her head back against the pillow as she looks to the right. On the nightstand is a clipboard and pen, both having been left unattended. Lifting her torso up Catherine pushes her head toward the pen and when she finds its just a hairs breath away from her mouth's reach, she ingeniously sticks her tongue out like a net as she flicks it toward herself.

She spits the pen toward onto her stomach so that she can slide it to her left hand.

She easily picks the lock.

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Catherine slips beneath her bed hurriedly as she massages the soreness of her throat.

It's not long until the same nurse comes back into to check on her, there's a silence then a yelp of realization. The nurse frantically hurries away in order to tell security so that they can undoubtedly search for her in all the wrong places. As she hears the door shut once again she raises herself from her hiding place and makes her way into the nurses office, easily finding a hung uniform.

It's blue scrubs with a mask, which Catherine pulls over her head so it wraps around her neck. Grabbing a rubber band she ties her hair above her head and leaves, feet still bare.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jonathan knew when he first began his research, that one day he would return to Arkham Asylum as an unwelcome guest.  
That just happened to be today.

He wore his lab coat that he had gained from chemistry classes within college, stethoscope wrapped about his neck as he walked briskly past all the rushing nurses and security who remained oblivious to his turned down face, hidden from view.

They were to meet at Quincy Sharps self proclaiming statue which rested in the center of the island, standing greedily.

It was not long before they each made their way to the statue as all personnel were too busy - calming patients whom Crane had been so kind as to spray, and searching for Catherine- to notice them.

Catherine gave Jonathan a lopsided grin before he was upon her, noses hitting each other in a moment of pure unbridled want.

Jonathan pulled back first, eyes dark as he gripped her wrist tightly, dragging her to the docks where their transport was waiting agitated. Before they got on the boat however, Catherine pulled Jonathan to a stop, a glint in her eyes.

"Do you have him?" She asked ecstatically.

Jonathan released a small smirk. "**Look for yourself." **After Jonathan said that Catherine rushed on to the boat, lips practically grinning with their smile.

There, tied and gagged was a very angry looking Quincy sharp.


End file.
